Battlefield Earth Part 74

This was an extensive minesite with seven underground levels and many branches working for tungsten and cobalt, and it was plentifully supplied with machinery and equipment. But MacArdle in his original raid had blown up their fuel and ammunition plant and all their dumps.

The four wounded Psychlos were in a sealed-off section of the dormitory and breathe-gas was pumping into it. MacKendrick did not have much hope for them but he was working on it.

The problem of the other bodies they had solved. There was no morgue, and fighting time in this equatorial heat, they had hastily gotten forklifts and ore freighters from the minesite and lofted the Psychlo bodies up through the clouds to the freezing temperatures and crusted ice and snow of a mountain peak once called, the man-maps said, "Elgon." They were up there now, ninety-seven bodies, around a thousand pounds each, neatly laid out in the frigid zone.

"We may have no diplomas,"

Dunneldean had said when they finished, "but it would seem we are pretty good Psychlo undertakers!" And then he looked down from the dizzy alt.i.tude to the plains below and added, "Or is it overtakers?" The Scots scorned his joke, it was so terrible.

They had opened up the road with blade sc.r.a.pers and righted the Basher tank with a crane and driven the vehicles the rest of the way to the minesite. Despite company regulations they stored the fuel, ammunition, and breathe-gas underground out of the way of attack. They were experts in attacking such dumps.

Thor had come back to help them. He said some of the people in the tribes had seen the flashes of the battle and when they heard the last Psychlos were mopped up they had named the day the Tyler Battle day. Thor had flown a hunting party down to the savannah and they had come back with game and there had been a lot of feasting and dancing. "It is sometimes very gratifying, Jonnie, to be taken for you! But I had to disappear during the battle. You can't be in two places at once." Thor had spotted the convoy exit from the forest and had discreetly stood by at two hundred thousand feet to a.s.sist if needed. He had full picto-recorder discs of the whole battle and was surprised that n.o.body wanted to see them.

Tired, glad to be out of the rain, they sat around in the huge chairs of the Psychlo recreation hall. Jonnie was looking through the pilot traffic that still spewed out on the printer. Nothing unusual. He threw it down.

"We better get to work," said Jonnie.

They had been working. What did you call what they'd been doing if not working? Robert the Fox shook his head. Angus looked at his hands, bruised by wielding heavy torches and twisting open oversized locks. Dunneldeen just stared and thought of the flight hours ferrying dead Psychlos to the snow. Colonel Ivan whispered back of a bandaged hand to the Coordinator who then told him what Jonnie had said, and he looked back frowning. Hadn't his people been killing every Psychlo in sight and driving trucks and cleaning a minesite and doing everything else?

"Well," said Jonnie, "I hate to have to tell you that we aren't here to do all that."

All right. But then what- "We're here," said Jonnie, "to find out why the Chamco brothers committed suicide."

The devil with the Chamcos. They were just Psychlos and they'd tried to kill Jonnie- So Jonnie made a speech. He paused now and then to let the Coordinator catch up for the Russians present.

He told them that they did not know whether or not Psychlo was still there as a functioning planet. He told them about the Galactic Bank note and all the races listed on it, and he remembered he had one and pa.s.sed it around.

They realized what he was saying. Earth was wide open to counterattack. If the Psychlo planet were still there, it would eventually counterattack with new gas drones. And these other races possibly had means of reaching Earth swiftly. And when they found there were no Psychlo defenses here, they could slaughter the place if they had a mind to.

The only way to find out was to rebuild the teleportation shipment rig and get it cracking. But the Psychlos put on the project had attacked him when he questioned them on that subject. They got it. They also got the fact that no other group or organization was working to handle these problems or the defenses of the planet.

"Which elects us," Jonnie said.

They agreed.

"So, Angus, I want you to set up that machine they said you used on me to feel that steel splinter. And we're going to set it up and start looking in Psychlo heads! If we find something and if one of those Psychlos that are still alive can be operated on, we will have somebody we can make rebuild the teleportation rig and we're in! We can cast picto-recorders out and look at Psychlo and we can look at these other civilizations and then we'll know where we are. Right now we're listing in the cloud layers with no direction but down. Without knowing, I think we're dead men."

"We have all their mathematics and texts on teleportation," said Angus.

"I've seen them, man. I've even held them in my hands!"

"But you haven't made any sense out of them," said Jonnie. "I tried for weeks to unravel them. I'm no mathematician but there's something wrong with those mathematics. They just don't work out! So we need a Psychlo who won't commit suicide if we ask him."

"Tell me, Jonnie," said Dr. MacKendrick, "I see no evidence of anything in their heads. You can't X-ray, or whatever you call it, thoughts!"

"When I was lying around trying to get back the use of my hand and arm," said Jonnie, "I got hold of a lot of man-books on the subject of the brain. And you know what I found?"

They didn't know.

"Way back when man had hospitals and lots of surgeons and engineers," said Jonnie, "clear back, maybe twelve hundred years ago, they were experimenting with planting electric capsules in the heads of babies to regulate their behavior. To make them laugh or cry and get hungry just by pressing a b.u.t.ton."

"What a disgusting experiment," said Robert the Fox.

"They had an idea," said Jonnie, "that they could control the whole population if they put electric capsules in their heads."

The Coordinator translated for Colonel Ivan. He said there was a myth that that had been tried- controlling whole populations- in Russia, and n.o.body liked it.

"I don't know they ever succeeded," said Jonnie. "But when I looked this Chamco thing over, I had a clue about it. Why should two hitherto cooperative renegades, happily signed up on good contracts, suddenly attack me when I said certain words? I have reviewed the discs somebody cut. I was pressing them to rebuild the teleportation transshipment rig and they started to get upset and then I said these words: 'If you will explain to me...' and they both went crazy and attacked."

"Maybe they were just withholding information," said Robert the Fox.

"They-"

"They committed suicide two days later," said Jonnie. "After that I asked Ker whether he had ever heard of Psychlos committing suicide and he said yes, one did, an engineer on a planet he'd served on. They used an alien race there and the Psychlo engineer had gone out drinking one night, killed an alien, and then two days later committed suicide. That was the only one he ever heard of. "Also," he added impressively, "they return all corpses to Psychlo. There must be something in them they don't want found."

The group buzzed to each other and got their wits around it.

"So I am guessing that Psychlos, when they are babies," said Jonnie, "get something put in their heads to protect their technology!"

MacKendrick and Angus were very interested now.

"So that's what we've been doing," said Robert the Fox.

Angus went to their ship to a.s.semble the device. MacKendrick went to a dormitory section to set up tables. Dunneldeen and Thor went off to the mountain peak to bring down a couple of corpses, Dunneldeen calling himself and Thor "the gruesome twosome."

If Jonnie was right or Jonnie was wrong, they would know more very shortly.

The planet was wide open to counterattack.

Robert the Fox went out and got an antiplane battery manned and arranged for twenty-four-hour alert and pilot scrambles. This tiny group, under half a hundred, only four or five pilots, and an antiplane battery that had already failed to shoot down one of the minesite attack craft, to defend a whole planet? Ridiculous! But he went through the motions. At least for local defense.

Chapter 8.

"Who are you?" said Terl. He had no trouble at all in seeing the figure who stood in the shadow of the post. It was a brilliantly clear, moonlit night, so bright that even the snow-capped peaks of the Rockies gleamed.

Lars Th.o.r.enson had brought the newcomer down to the cage at senior Councilman Staffor's request. Lars had totally flunked out of pilot training after trying a "combat maneuver" so impossible that it crashed him, wiped out a plane, and cracked his neck. He had been appointed "language a.s.sistant" to the Council. The plaster cast collar he was wearing did not interfere with his talking. He had been told to bring the newcomer down to the cage, turn off the electricity, hand in a mine radio, give the newcomer another mine radio, and then with no mine radio of his own withdraw. Lars was very punctilious about his duties- he had accepted the appointment on the condition that he could now also spread fascism among the tribes, which made both him and his father very happy. This newcomer had really stunk up the ground car! Suddenly Lars remembered he was also to tell the cadet on guard duty to go elsewhere, so he rushed off to find him and tell him just that.

Terl looked at this newcomer, hoping his contempt for the animal wouldn't show through his face mask or sound in his voice. He knew all about General Snith of the Brigantes. As security officer, war officer, and political officer of this planet, he was very well informed about this band. Like all security officers before him, Terl had accepted the situation of a human group in a rainy forest who couldn't be reached or observed and who had developed a symbiotic relationship with the Psychlos. The Brigantes had kept all other races wiped out and had delivered hundreds of thousands of Bantu and Pygmies to the branch minesite. The only attraction that place had was that you could occasionally buy a human creature to torture. Yes, Terl not only knew all about them but he had personally engineered their transport over here.

Terl had persuaded the creature Staffor that what he needed was a true and reliable corps of troops for this place. Staffor had vehemently agreed- you couldn't trust those Scots, they were too sly and treacherous; you also shouldn't use cadets who seemed to have some d.a.m.nable and misplaced admiration for that Tyler.

The Brigantes had come but Staffor seemed to be having trouble with the negotiation with them, so Terl had suggested their chief be sent down.

"Who are you?" repeated Terl in the mine radio. Did the creature speak Psychlo as was reported?

Yes, the next words were Psychlo, but a Psychlo spoken as though the thing had goo-food in its mouth. "The question be, who the c.r.a.p crud be you?" said General Snith.

"I am Terl, the chief security officer of this planet."

"Then what be you doing in a cage?"

"An observation post that keeps the humans out."

"Ah," said Snith, understanding. (Who did this Psychlo think he was fooling?) "I understand," said Terl, "that you have had some difficulty coming to terms." (You crud brain: I pull you out of a jungle and you don't realize my power!) "It be the back pay," said Snith. It seemed quite natural to be talking to a Psychlo over a mine radio. He had never talked to one any other way. So maybe this interview was on the level after all. This Psychlo knew the proper form.

"Back pay?" said Terl. He could understand somebody being concerned about that, but he thought it was a barter system of explosive ingredients for humans.

"We was hired by the international bank," said Snith. He knew his legends and he knew his rights, and he was very good at trading. Very good indeed. "At one hundred dollars a day per man. We ain't been paid."

"How many men, how long?" said Terl.

"I calculate in rough figures one thousand men for, let's say, one thousand years."

The rapid skill Terl had with mathematics told him this was 36,500 a year per man; 36,500,000 per year for all the men; and 36,500,000,000 in total. But he made a test. "Why," said Terl, in a shocked voice, "that's more than a million!"

Snith nodded gravely. "Just so! They won't agree to it." This Psychlo knew when he was in a boxed ambush. Maybe he could do business with him after all.

Terl had his answer. The piece of c.r.a.p couldn't do common arithmetic! "You were hired, you say, by the international bank to take Kishangani of Haut-Zaire and then take Kinshasa and overthrow the government and wait for bank representatives to come in and negotiate for proper payment of loans. Is that right?"

Snith had said nothing of the sort, not in that detail. The legends were a trifle vague. But he realized abruptly that he was talking to somebody who really knew his business.

Terl always knew his business. He hadn't even bothered to review any of this. It was a security chief joke and had been for more than a thousand years on this planet. They had had all the details from a captured mercenary, properly interrogated over several days way back when; it had made delicious reading. "But your ancestors," Terl bore on remorselessly, "only captured Kishangani. They never went on to capture Kinshasa."

Snith had dimly known that, but he had hoped it wouldn't come up. His ancient forebears had been crudely interrupted by the Psychlo invasion. He wasn't sure what was coming now.

"You see," said Terl, "the international bank has been taken over." He hoped this c.r.a.p brain would swallow this outrageous set of lies. "The Galactic Bank, located in the Gredides System, bought them out."

"Gredides System?" gawped Snith.

"You know," said Terl, "Universe Eight." This much was true, where the Galactic Bank was. Always sweeten lies with a little truth.

"Ah," said Snith, totally adrift. He better watch it. This Psychlo would swindle him. It had happened before. He was on the alert.

"And," lied Terl, "you will be glad to know that it took over all obligations of the international bank and that includes yours." This quick reversal almost spun Snith.

"So as one of the agents for the Galactic Bank," (if he only were!) "I am authorized to pay you the back pay. But your ancestors only did half their job so you only get half the back pay. That would be five hundred thousand dollars." He was wondering what a dollar was. "I'm sure that will be acceptable."

Snith came out of his fog like a shot. He had expected nothing! "Yes," he said deliberately, "I think I can persuade my men to accept that." Creepo! That would be ten dollars a man and the rest for himself. Riches!

"Now is there any other trouble? Quarters? They found you quarters?"

Snith said yes, they'd given them a whole "serbub" in the town up there, a square mile of old houses and buildings in the outskirts. Bad repair, but palaces really.

"You should also insist on some uniforms," said Terl. He was looking at this filthy creature over there in its monkey skins and crossed bandoliers of poisoned arrows and a diamond in a peaked leather cap. "You should also clean yourself up, comb your fur. Look more military."

This was rank criticism! Snith became very cross. He himself was spit and polish and so was his unit. All twenty of his commandos, fifty men in each, properly officered, trained to the nth degree! (He slowed down, hoping they wouldn't notice it was only thirty-five to the commando these days, the food situation being what it had become.) "And food?" said Terl.

Snith was startled. Could this Psychlo read his mind? "Food is bad!" said Snith. "There be plenty of dead bodies in those houses but they be old and dried and unfit to eat. There would got to be a clause in any future contract about better food!"

Belatedly, Terl remembered that these Brigantes were reputed cannibals, a fact that had lessened their trade with the minesite over the centuries. Sternly he said, "There can be no such clause!" His whole plan could be wrecked if they threw these creatures out. His studies, when he was doing the lode plan, had isolated some data in c.h.i.n.ko books indicating that these human animals curiously objected to cannibalism. He had at one time considered using the Brigantes for his gold plan but they had been far away, and also they might have run around yammering about no food due to the scarcity of humans in these parts.

"For the duration of this contract," said Terl, "you will just have to put up with cattle as food."

"It tastes funny," said the Brigante chief. He was willing to concede the point. His brigade had had to eat an awful lot of water buffalo and monkey and elephant. But it wouldn't do to be too agreeable. Be a hard bargainer! "But all right, if the pay is good."

Terl told him then that he himself intended to go back to Psychlo very soon and he would personally collect their back pay at the Galactic Bank and return it here. And that meanwhile they should hire on as the sentries and military force of this compound and the Council.

"You'll bring the back pay back?" said Snith. "All half-million?"

"Yes, you have my word on it."

The word of a Psychlo? Snith said, "I and six of my picked men will go with you to see that you do!"

Although Terl didn't know whether the imperial government would want to interrogate them- the imperial government would want a very important, knowledgeable man- he readily agreed. Who cared about what happened to Snith once Terl's plan was executed!

"Of course, and welcome," smiled Terl. "Providing of course you help me all you can until we go. Anything else?"

Yes, there was. Snith fished out something and gingerly approached the cage. He laid it down between the temporarily de-electrified bars and withdrew as was proper.

Terl tugged his chain over and picked the item up.

"They want to pay us in that stuff," said Snith. "It's only printed on one side and I think it might be counterfeit!"

Terl took it closer to a cage light.

What was this thing? He couldn't read any of the characters on it. "I doubt you can even read this!" he challenged.

"Oh yes, I did," said Snith. He couldn't read either, but somebody had read it to him. "It do say it is one credit and is legal for payment of all debts. And around the picture it says, 'Jonnie Goodboy Tyler, The Conqueror of the Psychlos.' " That was what disturbed him really, that the Psychlos were said to have been conquered.

Terl thought fast. "Indeed it is a counterfeit and a lie as well!"

"I thought so," said Snith. They always tried to trick you. His ancestors had known that very firmly. Trick before you are tricked, they used to say about all dealings.

"But I'll tell you what I will do," said Terl into the mine radio. "Just so you know who you are really working for, you accept this and say nothing, and when we get to the Galactic Bank, I will redeem it in cold, hard cash!"

That was fair. Now he knew who he was really working for. Made a lot of sense, quite proper. Paid by one group but working for another. This Psychlo was straight after all.

"That's fine," said Snith. "By the way, I know that man in the picture."

Terl looked closer. The light had been bad. By c.r.a.p, it look like his animal! He tried to remember whether he had ever heard its name. Yes, he dimly recalled the strange words. Yes, it was the d.a.m.ned animal!